


First, do no Harm

by Denise



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 22:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise/pseuds/Denise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Entity fall out</p>
            </blockquote>





	First, do no Harm

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Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

* * *

 

  
Janet slipped out of bed, trying not to awaken her lover. She padded out of the bedroom, not bothering with a robe and made her way through the sleeping house. This was getting old, insomnia plaguing her yet another night. She walked through the living room, spying the dull glitter of the streetlights reflecting through the crystal decanter of brandy she kept on the hutch. She'd never considered herself the decanter type, but it'd been a Christmas gift and she had to admit it did look nice. 

Pouring a generous quantity of the liquor, she gulped it down, desperate for the forgetfulness her rational mind knew it wouldn't give her. The thing is, right now she was desperate, desperate to relax, to sleep, and to forget.

Pouring some more into the glass she grabbed it and the decanter and made her way out to the small deck off the kitchen. Their house was in a quiet neighborhood, the most noise she remembered ever hearing on a Saturday morning when the weekend warriors all came out to see who could mow their yards the fastest. There was no traffic on the street; the only real sounds the occasional buzz of police or military helicopters on night maneuvers across town and the natural noises of a Colorado night.

She took another quaff of the liquor, letting it burn down her throat, closing her eyes as her mind flashed back to events of the last few days. The urgent cry for help that had sent her and her team running to level 24. The equally frantic dash back, realizing that it wasn't a false alarm and knowing that every single second counted.

The relief she'd felt at first, knowing that Sam was alive and going to be ok. Relief that quickly faded when she realized that her friend was again a prisoner, a hostage within her own body. The revulsion she felt every time the entity talked, every time it used and warped Sam's memories to manipulate her friends.   
The faint hope that maybe it'd leave her. Hope that quickly died when she realized that the entity cared for itself more than its victim. Desperately wanting to cheer O'Neill on as he talked to and harassed the entity, but knowing that she couldn't. That it wasn't professional, wasn't proper and probably wasn't strategically sound. Because she knew if the entity ever knew how much another cared for the major, that it'd use that against them as well, maybe damaging Sam's body beyond her ability to heal.

The fear she'd felt when the entity fled the infirmary, hoping that maybe it'd been pushed to leave Sam. Fear that reached nightmare proportions when she heard the zinging of the zat and rounded the corner, seeing the one thing she hadn't wanted to see, the crumpled form of her friend lying on the floor, a shell shocked O'Neill standing over her, looking so pale she expected him to crumple as well.

But he didn't crumple. He held himself straight and tall, steeling himself for the censure and blame he knew would come his way. He refused any efforts at comfort, instead tersely directing Teal'c to pick up the body, struggling over the word.

Her flash of anger, shouting him down and yelling at Teal'c to instead get the major back to the infirmary, ready to drag Sam there herself if she had to. Ignoring the sad resignation in Hammond's eyes, knowing the man allowed her to treat the woman more for her own good than Sam's. Acknowledging her doctor's need to at least try to heal.

She remembered barking orders, ignoring her nurses' defiant looks when she ordered the intubation. She knew about Sam's living will, they all did. She wasn't the only one with a DNR on file; a simple piece of paper spelling out what the woman did and didn't think was acceptable. She'd helped Sam fill it out, defining the terms and setting the boundaries. She knew she was on the razor's edge, flirting with blatantly ignoring her friend's wishes. But she didn't care. There had to be a way, there was always a way. How many times had Sam returned from the brink of death? How many times had she and the rest of SG-1 been resurrected? More than she could think of.

Too many times for her to just say 'oh well' and call time of death. 

So she brought her back, kept her alive, hoping against hope for another miracle.

She regretted it. Hours later in her office, staring at the undeniable evidence of the third EEG, the thin, nearly flat lines incontrovertible proof of her error. Sam wasn't dead, but she wasn't alive, she'd never be alive again. She'd let her own greed and fear override her basic doctor's oath, ignoring Sam's wishes because she wasn't ready to let her go.

First do no harm. She'd promised that the day she'd became a doctor and she'd ignored that oath. She'd done the cruelest thing possible to O'Neill, made him face his friend's death twice. The first time he could justify it. She knew that. He was enough of a soldier to know what he did; he did for the safety of the base.

But the second time, the second time Sam was no threat. The second time she was just a shell, a figment of what she used to be. She'd done the cruelest thing in the world, given him hope that there'd be another miracle. And she had to dash that hope, forcing him to admit that his friend was dead, and that he had killed her. Forcing him to watch as she flipped the switch. Forcing him to watch as Sam stopped breathing. Watch as her heart fluttered, the muscle suffocating, slowly dying. Force him to stand there until her EKG stuttered to a mournful drone.

She didn't know what would have happened had it not been for Daniel and Siler. How Daniel knew that the words scrolling on the screen were Sam, she had no idea. What she did know, was that if it weren't for him, SG-1 would have lost two members that day. 

She remembered the defeat in O'Neill's eyes, the heavy slump of his shoulders. Guilt can kill worse than the sharpest knife. She knew that the moment she walked into the room and saw him keeping his morbid vigil.   
He would have done anything to change places with her. Anything to bring her back. And, she knew, anything to forget that he'd put her there.

She'd seen him a lot in the past few days, cooking up excuse after excuse to visit the infirmary, never staying long, but long enough to cast an appraising look at the woman in the bed. Long enough to share a few jokes, say a few words, long enough to reassure himself that it hadn't been a dream. That she was alive and well again. That the entity was gone and his friend was back. That her blood wasn't on his hands. 

They never talked about it, Sam and O'Neill. She said she didn't remember, he wanted to pretend that it hadn't happened. Janet wished that she could do both. She didn't want to remember how she'd betrayed Sam's trust. She wanted to pretend that she hadn't tortured O'Neill with the curse of false hope.

She wanted to know that she'd never do it again. Never let her own feelings and fears cloud her decisions. 

She wanted to know that she'd never be so selfish again. 

She heard footsteps and felt a presence behind her. She sighed, closing her eyes. "I didn't mean to wake you," she said softly.

"I wasn't tired anymore." Her lover came to stand beside her, after a few minutes, reaching out to take the glass out of her hands, sipping the drink. "This won't help, you know."

Janet shrugged, taking the glass back. "Who's the doctor around here anyway?"

Her lover sighed heavily. "You did everything you could. Everything I'd expect you to do. No one blames you for anything that happened."

"I was wrong. I ignored the DNR. I did what I wanted to do not what my patient wanted me to do. That's not what doctors do," she insisted.

"Doctors save lives," Sam said, taking Janet's arms and forcing her to look at her. "And you saved mine."

Janet closed her eyes, finally allowing the emotions she'd ignored for the last week creep to the surface. She felt tears well up and she tried to turn away, seeking privacy. Sam refused to let her go, instead pulling her close, wrapping her in an embrace Janet had never thought she'd feel again. She slumped against her, soaking in the warmth of her body. "Ssh," Sam soothed. "I'm here, I'm here."

~Fin~


End file.
